


Off-Guard

by risotto



Category: Free!
Genre: Cats, Crushing, Future Fic, Gift Fic, M/M, Makoto's Birthday Exchange 2015, Misunderstandings, Pining, Post-Free! Eternal Summer, Rin is a dork, Some Fluff, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:36:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risotto/pseuds/risotto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto constantly catches an enamored Rin off-guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off-Guard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rolic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rolic/gifts).



> For the amazing **Rolic** who, on the Makoto Birthday Exchange, requested—
> 
> "I'd love to see some mutual seemingly unrequited pining: Makoto and Rin have a crush on/are in love with each other, but think the other won't ever see them as more than a friend, and/or is interested in someone else. Because they think it's hopeless they decide to keep their feeling to themselves, and keep on being close good friends while actually struggling with trying to suppress their real emotions. I'd like to see them growing more desperately in love with each other with time. UST very appreciated. The timeline can start whenever and possibly continue past-ES. How it plays out is up to creator. Of course I'd love to see an eventual happy ending for the two with triumphant fluff and/or smut. Optional Haru and/or Sousuke being aware of their respective best friend's feeling for the other captain."
> 
> I hope this is right by you. Please enjoy!

Rin’s sprawled out on the wet sand of Iwatobi’s beach, the water sluicing up his legs as the tide draws forward and back again in endless indecision. He’s exhausted in all the right ways, muscles sore and mind blank from a recent meet; he’s thinking of nothing but how easy life would be if he could just lay like this and not worry about improving his times, about making his schedule and impressing his team and his coach, about carving a place for himself outside the world of professional swimming.

About _anything_.

The stars are nice out tonight, though. Out here, light pollution isn’t nearly as bad as it is out in Sydney. It looks like the sky is a vast blacked-over canvas with little holes punctured into it, letting out the light beyond. He’s missed simple things like this and it’s only because this little party comes _before_ the flurry of back-to-back summer tournaments and training camps that he’s able to indulge. So, indulge he does.

Lulled by the rhythmic caress of the water, Rin is halfway to sleep by the time someone approaches.

“Um, Rin?”

At the sound of his name, he startles upwards, arms flailing and bringing up a cascade of wet sand as he does so.

It’s Makoto, no doubt sent to fetch him and bring him back to the barbecue with the others. He’s laughing, just soft enough not to bring anyone’s attention down on them. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Rin grouses as he pats sand off his shirt and shorts.

“Of course not,” Makoto says in a placating tone. He holds his hand out to help Rin to his feet. Rin stares at it: the fine long fingers, the broad width of his palms, the bitten-down nails, and tries to remember if he’d ever held it before. Nearly ten years of watching him do this to Haru, the thought never once crossed his mind. Strange.

He stares for quite a long time, apparently, because he’s startled out of it when Makoto blinks and lets out that soft laugh again. “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

Rin reaches up to clasp Makoto’s hand, pulling himself upright and trying to ignore the heat and strength in his friend’s grip. “Nah, I was just on the verge of falling asleep. Is the food ready?”

Makoto shakes his head, his gaze falling on the tents and benches in the distance where their friends are hard at work by the bonfire with preparing food and goofing off in celebration of the last few remaining weeks of summer. “Haru and Sousuke haven’t finished cooking yet.”

If Rin knows them, and he’s certain that he does, then those two are probably knee-deep in croquettes by now. It’ll be a while before anyone’s even allowed to eat. “Great,” he mutters.

Makoto hums in agreement, then tilts his head to indicate further down the shore. It’s mostly empty, nothing but a long stretch of sand and sea foam and vacant beach chairs. “Take a walk with me?”

Shrugging why not, Rin takes off into a brisk walk, leaving Makoto no choice but to follow his lead. Makoto’s legs are longer, which accounts for bigger strides, yet he still has to half-jog, half-walk to catch up with him, a fact that makes him swell a bit with pride. So much for that muscle contest victory.  
  
Even so, Makoto’s smile is still wide and reaching his eyes when he sidles up beside Rin, their shoulders nearly bumping. “I just wanted to go for a walk with some company. And since we haven’t had some time to ourselves, I figured it was a good a time as any.”

It had been too long and so much has happened since they waved bye to each other at the airport. They have so much to catch up on, Rin feels guilty knowing that a walk on the beach won’t even scratch the surface on what they’ve missed.

“Um, that is—you don’t mind, do you?” Makoto adds, with an awkward smile, when Rin doesn’t reply right away.

Rin may not know Makoto as well as Haru does, but they’ve been friends for a long time—long enough to where Rin can note the little switches in Makoto’s behavior and in his voice, even now. The regret is thick in Makoto’s tenor, enough to match the swell of culpability in Rin’s chest when he realizes Makoto wanted to do this, and not just with anyone in their group of friends. Just with him.

With a deep intake of breath, Rin slumps over to shove his hands in his pockets as they walk. Together now, with him no longer several paces ahead of Makoto. “It’s okay.”

“Mm.”  
  
The silence settles between them, turning into an easy, warm stretch, unimpeded by awkwardness. And Rin couldn’t be more relieved—awkward silences never suited Makoto well, never fit in with the smooth familiarity Rin always associated with him. No expectations, no guilt-trips, just the gentle reality of his presence and his warm shadow falling across the sand.

He wonders if Haru ever appreciated this simplicity as much does.  
  
That’s too dangerous a thought. And so, Rin exhales, shoulders loosening. “So. Heard you’re gonna be a coach, huh? How’s that working out for you now?” There’s a lilt of genuine curiosity in the question. It’s been so long since they’ve talked about what’s going on in their lives.

“It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be,” Makoto admits. “I mean, first, there’s getting your physical education degree, and that’s a lot tougher than you’d think, believe it or not. And then there’s getting all sorts of certifications and attending seminars and classes...”

Rin nudges Makoto with his shoulder, a wordless offering of support. “But it’s fun, right?”

Makoto smiles, and Rin feels it spreading over his own face. “Oh, definitely. I’m so excited. I can’t wait to actually start.”

“Then all those hard things are worth it,” Rin says, matter-of-factly, his stride confident.

Then Makoto says, “I couldn’t have done it without you,” and Rin narrowly avoids collision with a wooden jetty beam.

“Wh-what makes you say that? I didn’t—”

“Remember when we were in our third year of high school, and we were at the hotel for prefecturals? And we had that talk about our futures?”

Rin remembers that all right. Makoto had been meek and avoiding the topic altogether because he’d been unsure of what to do. Too busy worrying about what Haru was going to do with his own future.

But, mostly, Rin remembers Makoto’s hair and skin being damp from getting just out of the shower and how Nagisa had the worst timing in the world.

“It wasn’t a big _a-ha_ moment, but now that I think back on it,” Makoto hums, “that was the first time I gave my future some serious thought.”

Caught off-guard, Rin brushes back his hair, tucking the trailing strands behind an ear as he stares down at his feet. “I...well, I was just talking about _swimming_ , so...it’s not...”

Makoto shakes his head. “It is.”

Rin tilts a grin up at his friend. “If you say so, Makoto.”

A tiny and squeaky purr cuts through their moment. It takes Rin a few seconds to realize the sound didn’t come from Makoto but, rather, from beneath one of the beach chairs lined up and unused along the shore.

“Oh, come on, I won’t hurt you,” he coos, his giant hand held out just beside the chair, palm-side up. Sure enough, within seconds, out crawls a tiny kitten, black all over except for a white belly and a little white patch on the center of its nose. Just the kind of cat Makoto would go crazy for.

And vice versa, if a certain incident with a black, scratch-happy and hissy cat meant anything.

“Why hello there.” Makoto isn’t shy with being so friendly towards the little one, nuzzling the kitten with his nose and passing a gentle hand all over its matted fur. “You poor thing, you’re freezing and all alone.”

Rin rubs at the back of his neck, where it’s gone hot and sticky with sweat despite the dwindling temperature and the cool sea spray. “Must be one of the strays that always lurk around here. The fishermen like to give them the bycatches,” he murmurs, more out of a need to say  _something_  instead of just standing there like some kind of awkward and smitten schoolboy.

“He’s probably hungry,” Makoto adds with a slight nod.

“You know,” Rin says, shifting his stance around to appear more at ease than he actually feels, “if you want, we can take him back to the others, see if Haru can share some of his mackerel with the little bit.”

Makoto chuckles, his expression softening even more. “You’re being awfully considerate of this...little bit, you say? I mean, compared to the last time...”

“Oi, shut up,” Rin sputters, embarrassed, which makes Makoto chuckle again—an infectious sound, and Rin can’t help but lose his frown in a laugh of his own because of it. “That black cat was a demon in disguise and you know it.”

“And Little Bit here?”

Little Bit.

The corner of Rin’s mouth twitches. He likes that name. A lot.

“Not a hellspawn, far as I can tell,” he concludes, voice falling. “And anyway, he’s with  _you_ , so of course he’s calm and sweet...”

Makoto blinks, his face etched in surprise. Dumb and unfairly cute is the best way Rin can describe it, but just realizing that only makes him want to look at everything _but_ Makoto’s face.

God, Rin hates it when Makoto falls into silences like this. Rin’s not Haru—he can’t figure out what the taller guy’s thinking or what he’s going to do, and that drives him mad. “What?” he mumbles, like a petulant child. Rin flushes a deep, violently unattractive shade of red, and jerks his gaze away.

“Nothing,” Makoto says after a moment, that smile—the one that looks like he’s smiling at an inside joke—crawling over his lips. “I was just thinking that was nice of you to say.” A pause, and Makoto’s smile just widens the tiniest fraction. “Among other things.”

Other things?

Rin thinks he ought to tread carefully and not ask. His body isn’t ready for the answer. He pointedly looks at Little Bit, who’s curled himself up into a comfy looking ball of black and white in the cradle of Makoto’s arm. “Wonder what  _he’s_ thinking.”

“I bet I can translate,” Makoto offers.

Rin squints. “Oh yeah?”

Makoto accepts that challenge, holds Little Bit up by his ear, looking every bit surprised by what he ‘hears’. “Oh? What’s that? Are you  _sure_?”

Of all the people Rin can crush on, it has to be on Makoto, the future cat-lady-man who pseudo-communicates with felines and somehow makes it endearing.

“What did he say?” Rin asks, only partly annoyed for playing along with this but amused all the same.

Little Bit meows one last time before Makoto nods and looks Rin directly in the eye and says, “he said, ‘take me home with you.’”

After that, Rin’s mind is blank, a wash of white noise taking over. His smile vanishes. Panic swells up within his veins and he’s not sure why. He’s not sure of anything, least of all if there’s some underlying meaning that he’s supposed to hook onto or if he’s just letting his hope get the best of him.

He never finds out because he leaves not more than five minutes later, muttering  _that sounds weird_  and  _straight from a rom-com_  and  _oh yeah, I should head out, I got an early day tomorrow and..._

Later—much later for someone with a supposedly early day—when he’s slumped on Sousuke’s couch and watching a subtitled rom-com, he wonders if maybe he was looking too far into things. Was Makoto really coming onto him? Did he invite him on that walk on the pretenses of catching up when all he wanted was a little privacy and build-up to ask him if he wanted a night-cap?

And if so, so what? There isn’t anything essentially wrong with any of that. So why did he freak out and leave before confirming it? It’s not as if he’s not attracted to Makoto, or that he doesn’t like him enough to consider it. Because if there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s that Rin likes Makoto. A lot.

He’s not sure when, exactly, he came to this conclusion. It’s easy to brush it off as a crush that’s always been there, lingering undetected at first before later blossoming into the confusing mess that it is now. But his mind insists on pinning it to a specific moment in time.

Rin’s twelve years old and suffering from a bad case of the chicken pox. Makoto’s the only one among their mutual friends who’s ever had it and his mother was kind enough to let Rin spend a weekend with him and the Tachibana family, away from the stifling loneliness that is quarantine.

Makoto had been his usual caring self, providing him with snacks and medicine and anything to ease the burden of the illness. It was rather bothersome at first, but Rin soon warmed up to the doting and pampering and came to enjoy having his own private nurse.

It all changed when it came time for Makoto to rub calamine lotion over Rin’s itchy skin. Rin, come to find out, enjoyed that part most of all and can readily admit he’s thought about it several times since. The curl of strong and developed fingers over his skin, the pressure of firm but soft palms against the contours of his body...

Why didn’t he ever say anything?

Just as he’s cursing and hitting himself in the face with one of the couch pillows, Sousuke skulks in, watches his best friend’s antics, then the melodrama on the television screen, then back to Rin again. “You saw Tachibana, didn’t you?”

With a sigh, Rin calms himself and makes room for Sousuke on the couch. “Yeah.”

“You wanted to sleep with him, didn’t you?”

“Yeah...”

“But for some reason, you freaked out and didn’t.”

“Yeah...”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“...yeah.”

 

 

\- -

 

Despite the lack of major swimming championships, the Japanese National Team manages to maintain a rather tight and busy schedule over the course of the next year.

For the majority of it, Rin’s life consists of constant trips overseas for training camps and invitationals and friendly meets. He considers it a lucky day if he can sync his clock with Makoto’s long enough to call him up for personal and meaningful conversation instead of just piggybacking a _hey_ whenever Haru does.

When he does, their chats are brief and sometimes awkward, never with the same emotional intensity as the last few he’s had with him in person.

After hearing Makoto’s voicemail prompt for what seems like the millionth time, Rin concludes that whatever fire burned between them has fizzled out. Maybe it wasn’t meant to work out between them like this.

To make up for the newest void in his life, Rin throws himself into his training and his obligations as an athletic celebrity. He shows up earlier to practice than when he’s expected to; leaves the pool later than everyone else on the team save for Haru. He keeps to his schedule and his training menu to a T, cuts out every possible vice he can think of, starts (and later regrets) a ketogenic diet, and reads through every book Rei recommended for him in less than a month.

It had gotten bad, to the point where  _Haru_ , of all people, dragged him out of their hotel in Taipei for some dou hua one day.

“I don’t eat sweets,” Rin insists with a biting scowl as he’s led down a narrow street with various food stalls and souvenir shops lining both sides of the road. An unplanned excursion in a foreign country—normally this is something _he’d_ be excited for. Now, he just wants to go back to his hotel and do push-ups or something.

Haru rolls his eyes and continues walking through the market district without bothering to explain himself.

“And neither do you,” Rin points out.

It’s to no avail, as Haru just keeps walking and says, “I’m not buying these for us.”

“Then for who?”

They stop at a long line that’s almost curved around a corner. It consists mostly of young women, all waiting to buy the same sweet tofu, all armed with money and cameras. Not quite the circumstances an avid crowd-avoider like Haru particularly enjoys, which fuels Rin’s suspicions about his intentions even further.

“Hey,” Rin jabs at the other swimmer’s shoulder, “don’t play dumb. What’s this all about?”

Haru sighs, exasperated. “Who do you know that loves sweets?”

“Nagisa,” Rin replies, on reflex.

Haru thinks on that, then says, “besides him.”

“Come on, Haru,” Rin sneers, “nobody likes sweets as much as Nagisa. Besides, he doesn’t like sweet tofu. Makoto does but—”

If not for the crowd around them, Rin would smack himself for not recognizing Haru’s stupid plan sooner.

“So, what,” he groans into his palm, “am I supposed to buy him some of this and freeze it and mail it over or something?”

Haru sniffs. “No. I just wanted you to get some fresh air and to make you think about him.”

Rin fixes his friend with a flat stare. “There are easier and cheaper ways to go about that, you know.”

The stare Haru returns is just as deadpan, made only worse by the lack of a response.

“What am I supposed to do, Haru? I can’t just leave here and go see him.”

Haru moves ahead in line without a word.

Rin grits his teeth. God, he _hates_ it when he does this. “I don’t think personal trips are even allowed. I’d have to get permission from Coach and buy a ticket and...”

Haru yawns and rolls out the kinks in his shoulders, much like Sousuke would.

Rin hates losing more than anything. More than that, he hates it when Haru’s right. “ _Fine_. Alright,” he sighs, “I’ll go and ask for some personal days off. Happy now?”

Haru smirks.

 

 

*

 

 

The earliest flight Rin can nab at the last minute touches down in Tokyo late at night. The time’s risky, but with it being a Saturday night, he might actually have a chance of seeing Makoto. Rin just hopes he’s home and not out getting drunk and debauched with other college students.

It’s just shy of eleven thirty when he makes it to Makoto’s apartment door.

Rin breathes in deep, combing back his hair with one hand while the other squeezes anxiously around the base of a bouquet of roses. He purchased them from a street vendor by the train station—cheap little things the roses, they’re already wilted and frail-looking, no doubt worth their 500 yen. Hopefully, Makoto doesn’t pay their quality any mind.

He presses the doorbell with shaky fingers and tries not to squeak when he hears a familiar, soft and slightly nasal voice call out in acknowledgment. He holds his hands behind him to hide the bouquet, and waits and listens to the thump of approaching footsteps with bated breath.

Then the door opens and there stands Makoto looking stunned and, above all, happy to see him. “Oh my goodness, _Rin_! What a surprise!”

“Yo.”

Playing it cool always seemed to work in Rin’s favor. Helped steel his nerves, helped make him look and sound smoother than he’d ever let on. Except now, no amount of feigned indifference can hide the hunger coursing through him.

Makoto is in his glasses and a loose shirt that looks like it’s been through the wash for the past ten years. It’s almost unfair that Rin gets to see him like this.

Just as Makoto widens the door and as Rin prepares to present him with the cheap flowers, he hears, “who is it?” and it’s not in Makoto’s voice. It’s from further within the apartment.

Shigino Kisumi pops up from behind Makoto’s shoulder and Rin’s world cracks and shatters and spills, all at once. “Oh my god, it’s Ri~n!”

Strained and painful as it is to do so, Rin returns their smiles. “I know it’s late. Hope I’m not...interrupting anything?”

The lump in his throat makes his voice crack but neither Makoto nor Kisumi seem to notice.

“Of course not! Come in, come in! We were just playing!” Makoto insists and yanks Rin on in, carry-on luggage and all.

All, except for the bouquet of cheap roses Rin discreetly tosses aside.

Once Rin’s inside the apartment, Kisumi latches onto his arm with surprising strength. “Oh my god, it’s been _so_ long since we last caught up.” He bats his long eyelashes and, for once, Rin can see why both Sousuke and Haru try to avoid him. “I want you to tell me  _everything_  you’ve been up to for the past two years. And don’t spare any details!”

“Kisumi,” Makoto scolds. “Stop. He’s got to rest. You just got off a long flight, didn’t you, Rin?”

A four hour flight between Taipei and Tokyo can seem pretty long, but with how pumped up and anxious he’d been for the entire duration of it, it’s nothing but a quick and forgotten blur. “Uh, yeah,” he mumbles, even though he’s thinking it might be a good idea to schedule a flight back.

Once they’re settled in, Makoto prepares a tray of drinks—water and barley tea and several small cans of soft drinks and Chuuhai—and sets it gently beside all the other flotsam that he and Kisumi piled onto the kotatsu: playing cards, Hanafuda decks, snacks...

As thrilled and genuinely happy as his hosts are to have him join them, Rin can’t help feeling like he interrupted something. Or stopped it before it could start.

The TV is on, tuned to some variety show as background noise.

Kisumi’s in a work shirt that’s hanging open, unbuttoned.

God, he did interrupt them, didn’t he?

“So what brings you out here so late?”

_A stupid decision to confess that I made on a whim because of Haru and tofu._

“No reason at all,” Rin says quickly, tossing back half a can of Pocari Sweat in one shot.

“Oh.” Makoto’s face falls. “Is that a good idea, though? Haru said you guys are supposed to be in Taiwan for something...”

If only Makoto knew this was all Haru’s idea. Rin tries to ignore the concern in his voice. “Yeah, it’s just for a friendly meet, though. It’s not official or anything so Coach let me have the time off to come here.”

“Wow. Just like that?” Makoto asks, surprised. “In the middle of the season?”

Realizing he has to throw off the scent, so to speak, Rin shrugs and says, “yeah, for Sousuke’s birthday. He has no idea I’m in town. I wanna surprise him.”

Makoto’s about to do that thing where he tilts his head and blinks his eyes wide like a curious child right before popping a question, and Rin’s pretty sure he doesn’t have it within him to withstand the force of one of those from him. He braces himself for it anyway.

Kisumi, however, mercifully intercepts with a loud clap of his hands. “Okay! Well, since Rin’s here, I say we start with a round of two-ten-jack, whaddaya say? Feeling lucky?”

Rin doesn’t, but he agrees to it anyway.

The games and socializing continue on well into the night and before they realize it, it’s well past four in the morning. Makoto insists his guests stay over and arranges some futons and blankets so that they can all sleep together in the living room.

And as Rin’s luck would have it, Kisumi sleeps dead smack in the middle.

From where he is, Rin can barely watch Makoto as he sleeps. He can’t see the soft rise and fall of his broad chest or if his eyebrows still rise a bit like they did when he was a kid.

Not like it matters anymore.

 

*

 

“You’re awful at this, Rin.”

Awful doesn’t begin to describe it, Rin thinks. Horrifically unlucky, sure. Poorly timed, maybe.

It’s not long after twelve on the same day, and Rin’s exhausted from his three hours of sleep, feeling way more than  _awful_  during his lunch with Sousuke.

“Yeah, well, the sixties called and they want their suit and hair back,” he mutters, stirring the ice in his glass with a straw.

Sousuke ignores that admittedly weak response and cuts right to the chase. “So what happened?”

“Nothing,” Rin snorts, “exactly nothing happened. We just played games and drank and ate, then we fell asleep. I left first thing in the morning because I didn’t want to be the third wheel.”

The can of cola Sousuke’s about to drink from stops just centimeters before his lips. “Wait. ‘Third wheel’? Nanase wasn’t there. He was with—” Sousuke recovers, somewhat. “--some...where else. So. It couldn’t have been...him.”

Rin glares suspiciously at his best friend. “He wasn’t, but Kisumi was. Now, what’s this about Haru?”

Sousuke ignores him again. He’s getting too good at dodging issues. “So...Kisumi, huh?”

Rin slumps in his seat and sighs. “Yeah.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No one did.”

Least of all, Rin.

A moment passes, and then, “you’re not gonna cry, are you, Rin?”

Rin doesn’t say anything.

 

 

\- -

 

 

“Hi, Rin. It’s Makoto. I hope you’re okay! You left so suddenly. When Kisumi and I woke up and saw that you were gone, we became worried and thought we did something... Anyway, please call or text me back as soon as you can!”

_Message erased. You have one new message. To listen to your messages, press one._

“Oh, sorry, it’s me again! Also, I wanted to show you Little Bit! He’s gotten big! But, um, maybe next time?”

_Message erased. End of messages._

 

 

\- -

 

 

` **Makoto**`  
`Looks like you’re busy. Sorry!`

_Are you sure you want to delete this message?_

_Message deleted._

 

\- -

 

 

Later that evening, Rin’s phone is flooded with texts. All from the same sender.

` **Kisumi**`  
`I’m soooo sorry, Rin!`

Oh, great. Just perfect.

` **Kisumi**`  
`Are you theeeeeere?`

Unlike Sousuke, Rin never considered Kisumi the living embodiment of the plague and genuinely likes the guy. He can’t get hostile with him just because he managed to do what Rin couldn’t.

` **Kisumi**`  
`Riiiiiin`

` **Kisumi**`  
`Nooooo. Don’t do this to meeeeeeeeee.`

` **Kisumi**`  
`I need to talk to youuuuuu! Let me clear the air!`

` **Rin**`  
`Clear the air?`

` **Kisumi**`  
`AHA! There you are!`

` **Rin**`  
`What is this about?`

` **Kisumi**`  
`What do you think? C’mon let’s meet for some coffee and I’ll tell ya alllllll about it.`

There are two ways he could let this play out: one, he could beg off, make an excuse about how he can’t make it, and promise to call Kisumi sometime later. That’s the more attractive option, to be honest, but it’s also completely unlike Rin. He may be tired and cranky and heart-broken, but won’t it mean something, extending an olive branch to Kisumi like this?

` **Rin**`  
`Fine. But you’re paying.`

` **Kisumi**`  
`Rin so meeeean!! But OK! See you at six @ Tigerlily Cafe! ♡ `

 

 

*

 

 

Rin should have known better.

Kisumi always had the best intentions at heart, and no amount of epithets from Sousuke or Haru could ever change that. And sure, he’d always been a little on the  _distracted_  side, especially when it came to meet-ups and contact, so Rin can forgive a few mishaps here and there. But it’s almost seven and there’s no sign of Rin’s pink-haired boyhood friend anywhere near the cafe, and now he wants to kill him.

He almost reaches for his phone to type up a text consisting only of a colorful string of obscenities. But, in the end, he supposes he deserves this. For Rin to actually believe that Kisumi would show up somewhere and on time is clear proof that he hasn’t been altogether there lately.

Just what did Rin hope to accomplish by showing up here, anyway? It’s not as if he’s glad that Kisumi and a certain jolly green giant are an item...

Maybe it’s for the best that he won’t get to see him.

With a defeated sigh, Rin reaches for his wallet and turns to signal his waitress over, only to see there, standing at the entryway and scanning the cafe like a lost child, a certain jolly green giant.

Rin can’t duck down fast enough because no sooner than he can choke down his gasp does he hear that obnoxiously sweet and nasal, “Oh, Rin! There you are!”

The back exit is closed off to customers; the cafe’s too small and packed and probably violating all sorts of fire and municipal codes with its layout. Running away isn’t feasible at this point.

Double shit.

Stuck with no hope of escape, Rin slumps in his booth, the lower two-thirds of his body hidden beneath the table. He doesn’t bother straightening up when Makoto comes by and sits across from him uninvited; doesn’t even meet his gaze when he grumbles something that might pass for a greeting.

“I was looking all over for you,” he says, panting.

“How’d you know I was here?” For some reason, Rin’s voice sounds calm in his own ears, even though his heart is racing.

“Kisumi told me.”

Less than five minutes ago, Rin was ready to murder him. Now, he wants nothing more than to wrap him up in a tight hug and feed him his favorite crepes. But for now, he has to clear the air. Just as Kisumi said. Just as Haru suggested.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Rin suggests, standing from his seat and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Of course, Makoto follows along like some kind of loyal golden retriever. “Eh? What’s wrong with this place?”

“It’s a fire hazard.”

 

*

 

Ten minutes later, they’re sitting at the oak-paneled tables in a Thai restaurant, the mingled scents of lemongrass and garlic and sandalwood thick in the air. They don’t really do it for Rin but the happy look on Makoto’s face when he sees green curry on the menu is more than worth a few weird smells.  
  
A waiter scoops up their menus once they make their orders. Rin sprawls, taking up nearly the entirety of his side of the booth, and tries to ignore how Makoto’s face has now morphed into a sad frown.

Rin braces himself by sitting a little straighter. “So...?”

“I was wondering,” Makoto begins with a soft exhale, “if something was wrong with you or if I did anything wrong. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you but you don’t respond to my texts or calls. And I haven’t heard from you since we played games with Kisumi...”

It doesn’t hurt as much as Rin thought it would to have his recent assholery brought up front and center. Not to say there isn’t a pang in his chest when he sees the crestfallen look in Makoto’s eyes, but he’s dealing with it a lot better than the old Rin fresh from Australia would have. It’s a start.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “I just...felt out of place.”

“Huh?” At least this time, Makoto avoids doing that confused-child thing. “Out of place? Why would you feel out of place? You’re one of my best friends!”

Rin knows that, and he feels doubly stupid because of it. But it’s the truth. “I know, I just...” Tongue-tied, he makes vague gestures with a hand. “You and Kisumi...”

Makoto blinks. “Me and Kisumi...?”

He doesn’t want to say it. Saying it out loud means he’s fully accepted it when he hasn’t and doesn’t think he ever will. “You  _know_ ,” Rin insists. “I never would have suspected. I mean, I know you two were close back in junior high school because he blabbed all the time about you but to think you’ve taken it to this level...”

“‘Level’?” Makoto’s brow furrows. “You mean you think Kisumi and I are..?”

Rin’s gaze is sharp but not unkind. “Aren’t you?”

Makoto’s laughing. And it’s not one of those gentle and brief chuckles he’s known for, either. He has to muffle it with his hand and Rin thinks he may have snorted once or twice.

Rin’s pretty sure he’s never going to live this down.

He snarls, bares his teeth, and thinks about standing and leaving this restaurant, this town, this country. “Hey, what’s so damn fun—”

Makoto shakes his head and calms himself down, his cheeks pink and eyes wet with remaining laughter. “Me and Kisumi? No way! He’s not even my type!”

Then...

When Rin doesn’t respond with anything more than a weird sound from the back of his throat, Makoto prompts him: “Whatever gave you that idea?”

Rin shakes his head clear of cobwebs—or as much of them as he currently can. He’s still reeling from that bit of news.

In spite of himself, and even though he’s not sure why, Rin grins.

They’re not together.

It’s a douchey and not to mention opportunistic way of looking at things, Rin can admit, but there’s no denying the lightness in his shoulders and chest is from sheer joy.

“I don’t know,” he says, after a long moment of silent thought. “My mind just...works that way, I guess.”

Makoto relaxes too, and stirs his iced tea. “Your mind works in strange ways, Rin.”

“Strange?” Rin challenges him with a smirk. It feels like it’s been forever since he’s been able to do that without it feeling like it’s forced or he’s overstepping invisible boundaries. It’s refreshing. “You don’t realize how you and Kisumi came off that night, do you?”

Color rushes to Makoto’s cheeks. “N-No, it’s...not like that with me and him. I...”

And then it looks like Makoto’s said too much which, naturally, piques Rin’s attention. “You...?”

“...I’ve had my eye on someone else for a while now.”

The smile and the color drain from Rin’s face. “Oh.”

“Yeah. But,” a tiny and self-effacing smile appears over Makoto’s lips, “I don’t think that person wants me.”

“Then he’s fucking crazy,” Rin blurts.

Slowly, Makoto looks up, his smile now something far more teasing. “I never said it was a he, Rin.”

Ugh, fuck.

Rin ducks his head some, tries to save face. “Yeah, well—”

“I’m just messing with you,” Makoto chuckles again, kindly sparing him the same guffaw from before. “Yeah, it’s a guy.”

Makoto’s managed to catch him off guard three times within one day. That’s got to be some kind of a new record.

Rin pouts as his stomach flip-flops with nervous hope. “You’re the worst...”

“Am I?” Makoto says in a voice that’s too much of a purr for it to be casual. “That’s too bad...”

Rin licks his lips, opens his mouth to retort.

The waiter comes in with their food, effectively cutting that particular conversation short. They don’t revisit the topic again for the rest of their meal.

 

*

 

Makoto’s kind enough to offer Rin company on his walk back to the train station despite living within walking distance of the restaurant.

The old Rin would have grumbled and pawed at him and insisted that he’s not some fragile child and he can walk by himself,  _thankyouverymuch_. The Rin of today, meanwhile, is thrilled as can be and thinks about taking the long route on purpose.

They come up to a crosswalk. There’s a couple standing there, waiting for the light to switch to green as vehicles zoom past in both directions. They’re foreigners speaking to each other in a pretty-sounding language Rin and Makoto can’t understand. Body language is universal though, and it’s clear from the way they lean into each other and stand with hardly any space between them that they’re in love.

“I know it’s rude,” Makoto whispers from beside him, “but sometimes, when I’m by couples like this, I really want to know what they’re saying.”

Rin can’t help but agree.

“I bet I can translate,” he murmurs after a moment of recalling a certain moment on the beach involving a certain black-and-white cat.

Makoto doesn’t seem to catch on. His eyebrows shoot up. “You can?”

“Yeah. He said...”

Inwardly, Rin is squealing and panicking; he wants nothing more than to touch Makoto, to squeeze him and tell him everything. And in the midst of all of this, he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

Rin opens his eyes, not sure when he even closed them.

“Rin?” Makoto’s standing so close, Rin can smell lemongrass and iced tea.

The light flicks from red to green. The couple crosses. Rin breathes.

“Take me home with you.”

 

 

*

 

The blankets pool around Rin as he fidgets in bed and tries to settle into a comfortable tangle of fabric and limbs and warmth before he gives up on that endeavor and blinks his eyes awake.

He sees the brown hair mashed against the pillow and as he remembers taking a detour from the train station back to this apartment last night and the heat of hands on his skin while on the elevator and everything that happened afterward—he realizes something else, as well.

Makoto’s a late sleeper, just as he’d been when they were kids.

It’s cute so Rin doesn’t mind, as it gives him ample opportunity to watch Makoto as he sleeps. Closely and unobstructed by pink-haired third wheels.

Rin stares at Makoto’s profile. His mouth had fallen open and through the space between his lips, Rin can see a hint of white, a shadow of teeth. He can fit one of his lips in that space. Then, if he wants, he can add some suction or some pressure, or maybe even a little tongue, until Makoto wakes up and adds something of his own. Or maybe he can pull Rin on top of him again, run his big hands over the planes of his body and show him what else he’s learned in the years since high school.

“Do you always stare at people while they sleep?” Makoto asks, his eyes closed and voice thick and groggy from exhaustion, but abrupt all the same.

Rin jumps with a start, all but taking a header right off the bed. Embarrassed, he swats at Makoto’s bared shoulder with playful force. “You—! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Makoto laughs. “Sorry, sorry!”

Rin huffs, graduates from swatting at Makoto’s shoulder to poking him in the sides, entirely unsympathetic to his ordeal of waking up before he meant to.

The laughter soon ceases and they both settle into the bed with Makoto coaxing Rin into wriggling closer. “Hey.”

Rin traces lazy, invisible circles on Makoto’s stomach, enjoying the hardness of the muscles there and the way it rises and falls with his every breath. This is too perfect, he almost didn’t hear him just now. “Mm?”

“Just wanna know—would this be an awful time for me to confess?”

Rin doesn’t say anything. Just jabs him in the stomach with his index finger.

Makoto  _oof_ s with a laugh. “Hey,” he whines, “it’s not like I never wanted to before. That night you showed up? When Kisumi was there? I thought you were there to confess.”

Rin flushes. As a matter of fact, he  _was_  there to do just that. He keeps his mouth shut on that—he’s suffered enough embarrassment these past few days.

“I was  _hoping_  you were there to confess, anyway,” Makoto admits, a coy grin lighting his face up. “It would’ve been so random but romantic, like from a movie, you know?”

Rin shifts. “So. Uh, what...gave it away?”

“It was super late and it’s July, the middle of the swim season,” Makoto explains. “And you said you were in town for Sousuke’s birthday.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And...Sousuke’s birthday is in September.”

“Oh god,  _fuck_.” Rin lets out a small wail of humiliation and agony and burrows under the covers. How could he have not realized that gaping hole in his alibi? God. That’s it, then. He just won’t come out from his fort as long as he draws breath.

“Rin, come out from under there,” Makoto nags him like a parent though the mirth in his voice betrays his ire.

“ _No_.”

“I’ll sic Little Bit on you if you don’t.”

Tempting, but... “No.”

“I’ll sic Kisumi, then.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

A fate worse than death, really, so Rin concedes and throws the blankets off his body. “Fine. Happy?”

Makoto’s smile is sugary sweet. “I will be, when you answer something for me.”

“And what’s that?” Rin folds his arms and prepares for the worst.

“When did you know?”

That...isn’t what he prepared for, at all. The question catches him so quick and off guard, he doesn’t have it in him to blurt out any random response. Rin thinks long and hard on it. When _did_ he know, really?

He thinks of a jolly green giant inviting him for a walk on the beach. He thinks of two third-year boys discussing their futures in a hotel room the night before a swimming tournament. He thinks of those same two boys as preteens, rubbing oatmeal and calamine lotion over itchy skin between marathon sessions of Mario Kart and Smash Brothers.

Something squeezes in his chest, tight and warm, then he murmurs his response.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, Haru took Rin to buy sweet tofu from the Sweet Tofu Seller of Taipei, aka [this guy](http://www.dramafever.com/news/this-real-life-flower-boy-may-be-the-hottest-bean-curd-seller-in-taiwan/). You don't know how hard it was to not include him.


End file.
